The Story So Far: Volume 2
by BadgerLeopard
Summary: Three more stories, set on the Caribbean island of Saint Marie. DI Humphrey Goodman investigates a bizarre murder of a tea maker, Dwayne and JP try to solve the death of a journalist, and a very familiar face returns when a gangster is shot dead...
1. Two Murders, Two Places, One Victim

**Two Murders, Two Places, One Victim**

**Featuring DI Humphrey Goodman, DS Florence Cassell, Officer JP Hooper and Officer Dwayne Myers**

Calmness and tranquility. That was exactly what described the atmosphere in Jameera Jones's mindfulness house.  
She had hired the house seven years ago, and had used it to host her tea-making sessions ever since. Over the years, she had seen many clients come and go. One of her most popular clients, in fact, was a grumpy English policeman called Richard. Admittedly, she rather liked him, but was saddened to hear of his death a few years back.

Currently though, she was boarding her flight back to Saint Marie, at London Heathrow airport. Jameera had decided to visit the UK to check up on her parents, who had recently opened a new bookshop in London.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard this A380 airbus service to Saint Marie," the loudspeaker boomed, slightly muffled and drowned out by the various passengers adjusting to their new, more confined environment, "we hope that you enjoy the flight."

Meanwhile, in Saint Marie, DI Humphrey Goodman was sat at his desk, deep in thought, when one of his colleagues, DS Florence Cassell, came rushing over to him.  
"Sir, we've just had a call from a tea making house," she informed him, "they say that they've found a body."  
He looked up.  
"Really? It never rains but it pours. Come on Florence: we've got a body to see!"  
The detective then tossed Florence the keys to the Saint Marie four by four jeep that they used regularly to travel around whilst on the job, but the keys landed with a slight jingle and thud on the floor.  
"Ah." Humphrey added, going to pick up the keys and then walking out of the police station awkwardly.

About half an hour later, the two officers were walking over to the verge of a cliff, where their two colleagues, officer Dwayne Myers and officer JP Hooper, stood, examining the crime scene.  
"JP, Dwayne," Humphrey asked, making the two blue-shirted officers whirl round to face him, "what have we got?"  
"Sir, the victim has been identified as Jameera Jones, the owner of a tea making facility on the island." JP informed him.  
"I'm sensing that there's more to this than just somebody being pushed off of a cliff."  
"Chief, according to a brief search on my mobile phone, Jameera Jones is on the 2:00 flight from London Heathrow to Saint Marie."  
Humphrey smiled with pure delight: he loved bizarre murders. Ordinary murders were dull and tedious, but complicated murders that would require logic, thought and cunning was what made his job brilliant. That was why he liked doing logic puzzles with his aunt when he was a young boy: he was a rather clever person. And that was what made him an excellent detective.

"But that can't be possible?" Florence questioned, after which Dwayne showed her the image of who was currently on the flight back to Saint Marie: it was identical to the victim.

Back at the police station, as always, Humphrey was beginning to cobble together an investigation database: somewhere where all of the important facts about their current enquiry could be cobbled together, so that life could be made a lot easier for them.  
The database, in reality, was just a whiteboard with images of the victim and two people who were nearby at the time: Ellis Bollinger, a client at the mindfulness house, and Janet Taylor, the receptionist at the mindfulness house.  
"So, Florence," Humphrey requested, "tell me about our two suspects."  
"Ellis Bollinger," she read, as he wrote 'ELLIS BOLLINGER' underneath the right image, "a tourist who had previously felt stressed about work. He worked for Foreman & Wright, a financial company in London."

"I see. The tourist running away from the stress he once had."  
"And Janet Taylor," she then read, as he wrote 'JANET TAYLOR' underneath the right image, "the receptionist and admin officer at the mindfulness house. She previously knew the victim from primary school, and Jameera had decided to repay her by hiring Janet as the receptionist."  
"Repay Janet for what though?"  
"It doesn't say here, sir. I'll try and find that out for you."  
"Excellent. You do that, I'll see if I can dig into what stress Ellis Bollinger previously had in London, and JP and Dwayne should return soon with their findings."  
And as soon as he said that, JP and Dwayne returned, holding a large cardboard box with the word 'EVIDENCE' scribbled on it.  
"JP, Dwayne, have you, by any chance, found something that could blow this case wide open so that this can be all neatly tied up by lunchtime and so that I can spend my afternoon with Martha?" Humphrey enquired, hoping that the answer would be yes.  
"No, chief. It appears that the killer just walked up to Jameera and pushed her off, without leaving anything behind."

The phone rang, bleeping wildly, and Florence answered it. She had a bemused look on her face, and turned to look at her fellow officers once the call was over.  
"That was an air stewardess onboard the 2:00 flight from London," she explained, "she said that Jameera Jones was murdered."  
Humphrey's eyebrows slowly floated up to the top of his head in disbelief.  
"Florence, you're telling me that the same person was murdered twice in two different places?" he quizzed her: she nodded definitely.  
"Now that is bizarre." Dwayne remarked.  
"Indeed, Dwayne. Right, here's what I think we should do: Florence and I will visit Janet Taylor and ask her about whether Jameera had any twin sisters, whilst you two, Dwayne and JP, will pop over to Ellis's place and ask him about how Jameera could have been killed in two places at once."  
"Yes, chief."  
The two blue-shirted officers then left the station, leaving Humphrey alone with Florence.  
"Have you thought of any theories yet, sir?"  
"I only have one, Florence. But judging by our luck with this case so far, I doubt that it'll be true."

Humphrey and Florence were now at Janet Taylor's hotel room, sitting down on the comfortable bed with her.  
"Why exactly do you need to talk to me, Inspector?" the old woman wondered, "Is this about Jameera Jones?"  
"Yes, Janet. Did Jameera have any twin sisters at all? Or any sisters, for that matter?" Humphrey responded, taking out a notepad and pen.  
"She didn't have any twin sisters, but she always told me about a long lost sister called Helena."  
"Did Helena, by any chance, live in London?"  
Janet smiled at him.  
"Yes, she did, you know. Why do you ask?"  
"We found out earlier today that Helena and Jameera Jones were murdered. Would you known anyone who would want to target the Jones family at all?" Florence questioned.  
"Well, it would be pointless for me. I'm a ninety three year old lady who had retired here. Why would I engineer this pointless game?"  
"Thank you, Ms Taylor. That's all for now." Humphrey suddenly said, a thought occurring to him.

In the police jeep, Humphrey was in the driving seat whilst Florence sat next to him, but they were not going to the police station: they were headed towards Dwayne and JP. As soon as they had left the hotel, he had explained to her what his theory was. He believed that Ellis and Helena had previously met in London in negative circumstances, and that this murder was a revenge murder. There was no evidence for that, of course, but if he had the killer's confession, then that may be all the evidence that he may need.

They soon emerged from the four by four, just as JP and Dwayne were leaving the house.  
"Chief, Florence, what are you doing here?" Dwayne said, confusedly.  
"No time to explain, Dwayne. Just turn around and get our killer!"

Inside the house, Humphrey strolled over to Ellis, whilst the others kept their distance.  
"Did Helena Jones work for Foreman & Wright?" he asked him.  
"You mean the woman who took everything from me? Oh yes, she did."  
"And that's why you killed her, didn't you?"  
Ellis looked at the four officers guiltily, and put his hands behind his back.  
Another case was solved.

Later that afternoon, Humphrey was sat on the veranda of his shack, with Martha nearby. Martha was the pretty blonde who he had almost killed during a case involving a locked bathroom door and a backpacker, and ever since then, they had had a little holiday romance together.  
"What case did you have today then?" she asked him, sipping a bottle of beer.  
"There was this girl who had been apparently killed in two different places at once. Except that wasn't the case: they were sisters, who had disguised themselves as the same person so that this ex-banker wouldn't kill them."  
She smiled, before noticing that his beer bottle was empty.  
"Do you want me to get you another bottle?"  
"Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Thanks."  
She then got up and went back into the shack, leaving him deep in thought once more.

**THE END**


	2. Hooper & Myers

**Hooper & Myers**

**Featuring Officer JP Hooper and Officer Dwayne Myers**

Tricia Mortenstern sat down at the bar, taking out her phone to see if anyone had texted her. Thankfully nobody had texted her, meaning that she could finally enjoy some peace and quiet from her work.  
She worked as a journalist for _The Guardian_, and also was a private life coach, who had helped a lot of people. But now she had managed to get herself a break from political articles and helping people get over their dead cats.  
"You alright?" Hanta Jonson, the barman and owner of the bar, asked her, having noticed Tricia's stressed face.  
"Yeah, just a little bit exhausted. I've had a long week."  
He laughed.  
"I can tell. Here, have a beer on the house."  
He passed her a bottle of _La Douce Evasion_, a beer that she had never heard of and, because of this, was very eager to try.

At this moment in time, but elsewhere on Saint Marie, JP Hooper was nervous. Dwayne had planned to take him to a brand new bar that had recently opened, and he knew that he should have said no when he'd had the chance. The unfortunate thing though was that he didn't have a chance. Because somebody needed to make sure that Dwayne didn't get too drunk that he couldn't work the next morning. After all, they were police officers.  
JP was also nervous because Dwayne's idea of a bar was not his idea of a bar. His idea of a bar was the safety and security of Catherine Bordey's bar, where they usually had a drink together after work, whilst Dwayne's idea of a bar was a dodgy-looking wooden hut with beers that he had never heard of. But, that was what Dwayne was like, and he had to get over it.  
"Are you ready to see what my kind of bar looks like?" Dwayne asked him, as they walked along the gravel lane that led to the bar.  
"Yes Dwayne. But promise me you won't get drunk."  
He looked at JP with a serious look on his face.  
"JP, I never get drunk. And plus, this bar is brand new, so it's okay for me to get drunk this time round."  
"Dwayne, you always get drunk. You probably forget all about it afterwards."  
"Forget about what?"  
JP sighed: tonight was going to be a long night.

A few moments later, the two police officers had entered the bar. Dwayne was smiling happily, as his theory about this new bar being brilliant was being confirmed, whilst JP was a bit less glad to be where he was.  
"Yes ay," Dwayne exclaimed joyfully, "This is brilliant, JP! Why wouldn't you want to be here?"  
And exactly after he said that, somebody screamed loudly.

JP and Dwayne were the first ones to find the body of Tricia Mortenstern, who had a knife protruding from her chest. The two police officers shared an awkward look with each other, knowing what would have to happen next.  
"Do you want to call the Inspector or shall I?" JP asked him.  
"JP, why would you do that?"  
"It's what we're supposed to do, Dwayne. If there's a murder, then we call the Inspector and DS Cassell."  
He then realised that Dwayne was hiding a secret from him about the bar.  
"Dwayne, why can't we tell the Inspector that we were at this bar?" he questioned him.  
"JP, an old friend of mine wanted me to look into this bar. I owed him a favour after he helped me to get onto the Saint Marie team, all the way back in the days of Charlie Hulme."  
"And what does that have to do with not telling the Inspector why we're here?"  
"Because my friend also knows the commissioner, and if he finds out that someone was killed whilst I was nearby, he'd be furious with me."  
JP understood: Dwayne always knew the most dodgy people on the island. That was why he was both a valuable asset and always in trouble.  
"Okay, so we're on our own. Where do we start?"

A few moments after JP and Dwayne had found the body, Kelly Ferguson had rushed over to the body, her hand over her mouth in shock.  
"Are you two the police?" she asked the two officers, with a strong Caribbean accent.  
"Yes, we are." JP answered back, examining the body with a napkin before adding, "Dwayne, get all of the suspects together and start questioning."  
"Why do you get to be in charge? I've been here longer than you."  
"Dwayne, I am the more sensible out of us two."  
"What do you mean?"  
"For starters, I don't get drunk every other day."  
Dwayne sighed: his fellow officer was right. Grumpily sighing, he took Kelly away, allowing JP to properly examine the body in peace.

In the bar, far away from where JP was doing his work, Dwayne had gathered the seven people who could have killed Tricia together: Joshua Hardland, a young Englishman in a white shirt and tie; John and Kate Mistern, an old married couple who were dressed in summer hats and casual hot weather clothes; Hanta Jonson, the man who had been working at the bar a few minutes ago; Rebecca and Henry Smith, a young couple who had arrived at the bar at the same time as the scream occurred and Freda Pinchoretti, a middle-aged Spanish woman who had retired to Saint Marie two years ago.  
"Why have we all been gathered here?" Freda enquired, crossly, "I have a mindfulness class to go to."  
"There's been a murder," Dwayne announced, "and me and my colleague believe that you are all potential suspects."  
"I see. Will you be interrogating us one by one or all together?"  
"All together. Just give me a minute: my colleague is slowly examining the body of the victim."  
There was an awkward silence for a few moments, allowing Dwayne to gaze cheekily at Rebecca Smith with one of his "I love you so much" smiles.

Thankfully, before his fellow officer could begin to sprinkle some love dust on Rebecca, JP arrived, holding a transparent plastic evidence bag that contained a knife. The same knife that killed Tricia.  
"Dwayne, why didn't you begin the questioning yet?" he quizzed Dwayne, with a serious look on his face.  
"JP, why don't you just find out whose fingerprints are on the knife and then arrest them?"  
They both shared an awkward look and then smiled at everyone else.

Half an hour later, thanks to a wine glass, cocoa powder and sellotape, they had taken fingerprints from each suspect and had found a trace of a fingerprint from the knife. All they had to do was match the fingerprints and they had unlocked the puzzle.  
"So, why didn't you begin the questioning?" JP enquired.  
"JP, I wanted to question everyone with you around."  
"And why was that?"  
"Because I forgot my notepad. And a pen."  
JP smiled: he remembered how Dwayne was always very lazy when he wasn't at work. However, he was about to be very distracted by the fact that Dwayne had now discovered their killer.  
And it made their eyebrows rise up to the top of their heads.

Keith Morrison was sat at Catherine Bordey's bar, an exotic cocktail on the table in front of him. He was a relatively young English man, wearing a brown leather jacket, white shirt and jeans and who had short brown hair, with some hair on his chin.  
It had been one hour since he had been at Hanta Jonson's bar, but he felt that what he had done at Hanta's bar would soon turn up.  
And he was right.

Dwayne and JP had noticed Keith, and sat down opposite him, stern looks on their faces.  
"Dwayne!" Keith exclaimed happily, "How was Hanta Jonson's bar?"  
"Good. A pity that there was a murder." JP replied, making Keith realise that they knew what he had done.  
Keith got up and sprinted down the street, running away from the bar and straight towards DI Jack Mooney, DS Florence Cassell and the Saint Marie Police jeep.  
"I think that's far enough, Mr Morrison." Jack declared, with his middle-aged Irish voice.  
Keith glanced around, trying to find a way out. There wasn't one.  
He was trapped.

Once Keith had been placed securely in the police cells, Jack, Florence, JP, Dwayne and Commissioner Patterson gathered at Catherine's bar, in order to discuss what had happened that evening.  
"Well, you two are a rather good team," Jack remarked, after JP had told their story, "snuffing out a murderer all on your own."  
"Thank you chief." Dwayne commented, "I think I'll get some more beers in. Anyone want one?"  
"Officer Myers, Officer Hooper," the Commissioner said, "may I have a word with you both?"

The Commissioner, JP and Dwayne had gathered together by the main inside bar area, opposite from where Jack and Florence sat.  
"You two have done remarkable work for this island." the Commissioner commented, "And I would like to offer you the chance to do some missions on your own."  
The two officers looked at each other with a smile.  
"Dwayne, it's up to you." JP announced.  
"Yes, sir. We'll certainly be up to that."  
And the two officers casually strolled back to the table, whilst the Commissioner got some more beers.

**THE END**


	3. A Gangster on Saint Marie

**A Gangster on Saint Marie**

**Featuring DI Jack Mooney, DS Madeline Dumas, Officer Ruby Patterson, Officer JP Hooper, Commissioner Selwyn Patterson and Camille Bordey**

Mark Glamoritti was ready to die. He had regretted what he had done all those years ago, when he had been dealing heroin on the streets of London and had treated the women that he'd met like objects. Things that had no value. Now he had realised what he had done was wrong, and he couldn't escape his past.  
He was ready to die.

Mark was sat inside John Morgan's bar, a few miles away from Honore, drinking a bottle of the island's finest rum and with a sad look on his face.  
"Are you alright my friend?" John asked him, with a deep Caribbean accent.  
"Yeah. Just thinking about the past."  
He smiled at Mark.  
"My mother told me that the past doesn't define a guy: it's what he does in order to deal with it."  
"Your mother's probably right."

A few moments later, Mark decided that he needed some air, and so had decided to go outside onto the bar's balcony, abandoning his bottle of rum at his table. John had begun to wonder why one of his customers had decided to suddenly go outside for air, but, before he could finish wondering, he soon heard the sharp bang of a gunshot echo from the balcony.  
He rushed out onto the balcony, joined by Tina Anderson, a local tourist and doctor, and Daniel Watson, a medical student. But there was no point: they could all see the large blood red hole in Mark's chest.  
Mark Glamoritti was dead, and, watching from behind the crowd, Camille Bordey suddenly realised that her problems had suddenly become a lot bigger.

DI Jack Mooney was a very active man. When he wasn't chasing after criminals and maniacs with his highly skilled team, he was either having some father-daughter time with his daughter, Siobhan, or, like he was doing today, he was helping the older residents of Saint Marie. More specifically, today was "Saint Marie Safari day", which means that Jack had to drive around the forests of Saint Marie, pointing out the various animals that they just so happened to bump into. Thankfully, in order to combine family time with his hobby, he had brought Siobhan along.  
Jack was a middle aged man, with brown hair and wise brown eyes. He was wearing a pink shirt and tie, along with some beige trousers and brown shoes. Siobhan was a young woman, with long dark blonde hair and a charming smile, who was wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans.  
"And here we have the famed Saint Marie bluebird," Jack announced into the microphone, with his usual charming Irish voice, "which regularly flocks to the forests in order to find a mate and breed."  
He glanced at Siobhan and they both smiled a friendly smile.

However, before he could announce that any more exotic birds had been spotted, Jack's phone rang and he answered it, whilst driving the jeep onwards.  
"Hello... Ah, Madeline," he said, "what seems to be the problem?... A murder? Hang on, I'll be right there."  
"Duty calls?" Siobhan asked him, once he had put his phone away.  
"Yes. I'll drop you and the guests off at the station and then head over to the murder scene. I'll try to be back as soon as I can so then we can have a drink at Catherine's bar later."  
"Thanks, but please take as long as you need, dad. I understand how important this job is."

About half an hour later, the safari jeep pulled up outside John Morgan's bar, with Jack in the driving seat and nobody else aboard. He emerged, and was greeted by DS Madeline Dumas, a young French woman with curly brown hair who had recently joined his team, who informed him about what was going on.  
"Mark Glamoritti," she explained, with her suave French voice, "a gangster convicted of rape, murder, robbery and manslaughter."  
"Blimey. This fella's got it all, hasn't he? Like a modern day Winston Wolf, except a lot worse."  
Madeline decided to ignore the reference, just as JP Hooper and Ruby Patterson arrived.  
"Sir, we've examined the body, and there's a gun shot wound that matches a bullet fired from this gun," JP explained, holding up a black pistol, which had a silencer attached to it, in his gloved hand, "and Ruby has interviewed the witnesses already. All of her notes are in the police jeep."  
"Excellent. Madeline, you and me pick up the notes that Ruby made and head back to the police station in the safari jeep, whilst these two-"  
"Safari jeep?" she wondered.  
"Oh, I forgot to mention: today was the Saint Marie Safari day, so I drove a jeep around the forest and pointed out lots of exotic animals whilst a load of old people gazed around in wonder."  
"I see." she eventually said, heading off with him back to the jeep.

At the police station, Jack had stuck photos of Mark Glamoritti, Tina Anderson, Daniel Watson and John Morgan onto the whiteboard that was colloquially known as the Investigation Database. This was because it was where they wrote everything about the investigation that they were currently undertaking, so that life was made a lot easier for them.  
However, before Madeline had a chance to start reading out Ruby's notes, there was a knock at the door: a young woman with curly black hair wearing a blue vest, white shorts and brown shoes was stood outside, looking confused.  
"Can we help you at all?" Jack asked her.  
"Excuse me, have you seen a man called Humphrey Goodman anywhere at all?" she answered, also asking a question.  
"Humphrey Goodman?" Madeline wondered.  
"Humphrey was the detective that I replaced. He's probably in London with his wife Martha. Why do you ask?"  
"He has a wife?" the stranger said in amazement, "Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news."  
"Do you know him at all?"  
"Yes, I worked with him for a while. I'm Camille Bordey, and I need to tell you something, Inspector."

Meanwhile, at John Morgan's bar, Ruby had found something rather strange in the victim's pocket.  
"JP," she frantically said, "come and look at this."  
She showed him the notepad that she had found. It was a diary, and had five words written on today's page.  
"Ruby, we'd better get this to the Inspector." JP said, knowing that what Ruby had found was very important.

Camille had now explained to Jack and Madeline why she had suddenly returned to Honore Police Station: she had been assigned to go undercover as Mark Glamoritti's personal chauffeur by her boss, Leonard Vichereux, back in France. She'd been told to pick up Mark and drive him to his hotel, L'Harmonie.  
"So you presumably had just arrived at the time of the murder?" Jack questioned her, after she had finished her story.  
"Yes. I watched from behind the crowd. I didn't want anybody to ask any questions."  
"I see."  
He turned to Madeline.  
"Should we let her help?" he asked the Detective Sergeant.  
"I think so. We may need all the help we can get to crack this case, and now we have an inside woman, we may have an advantage."  
"I agree."  
"Detective Sergeant Bordey?" came a familiar voice from outside: an old Caribbean gentleman had arrived, dressed in a beige police suit with his black police cap on his head.  
It was Commissioner Patterson.  
"Commissioner, it's nice to see you after a long time." Camille said, before glancing at Jack and Madeline and asking, "Who are these two?"  
"This is Detective Inspector Jack Mooney, " he replied, pointing at Jack, "and this is Detective Sergeant Madeline Dumas, from Internal Affairs."  
"Internal Affairs? Why would an officer from Internal Affairs be here on Saint Marie?"  
Jack and Madeline shared an awkward look.  
"That's rather a long story, I'm afraid," Jack said, "but I'll explain it all later."

But before their conversation could continue, JP and Ruby arrived, holding a note inside a plastic evidence bag.  
"JP, Ruby, what have you found?" Jack wondered, noticing the evidence bag.  
"Well sir," Ruby explained, "we found this in the victim's pocket. As you can clearly see, it says a rather threatening message."  
She took out the note and showed it to them: it had the words "WHAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LIVE?" scrawled on it.  
"Good grief." Jack remarked, then adding, "Get that to the lab, see whose fingerprints are on it."  
"Yes sir."

Once Ruby had started preparing the bag to be sent off to Forensics, JP had started to do financial checks on each of the suspects and the Commissioner had left, Jack popped the lid off a brand new blue pen and got ready to listen to Madeline's reading of Ruby's notes.  
"John Morgan," she said, as he wrote JOHN MORGAN below an image of the bar owner on the whiteboard, "owner of a bar on Saint Marie. At the time of the murder, he was behind the bar, wondering why the victim had gone out onto the balcony."  
"Next."

"Tina Anderson," she explained, as he wrote TINA ANDERSON below an image of the tourist on the whiteboard, "local tourist and doctor. She was on her way to the bar when the murder occurred, and rushed over to see if the victim was alright."  
"And can you confirm this, Camille?"  
"I can. I saw Tina rush over from the bar and join John at the victim's side." Camille confirmed.  
"Daniel Watson," Madeline read, as Jack wrote DANIEL WATSON below an image of the final potential suspect on the whiteboard, "medical student and tourist. He was at the front of the bar with friends at the time of the murder."  
"And all three of them didn't know the suspect before hand?" Jack wondered.  
"Not as far as these notes show, no."  
Jack stared at the photos, wondering which of the three potential suspects could have been the killer. After all, he'd seen it for himself: nobody could have snuck in.

"Sir, you may want to take a look at this." JP requested, showing DI Mooney, DS Dumas, Camille and Officer Patterson what was on his screen: it was the case file of a murder committed by Glamoritti, and there were two names that caught their attention.  
The murder had taken place in John Morgan's bar, and Tina Anderson had been the medic at the scene.  
"Well this changes everything." Jack remarked, as the others went back to their computers.  
"Sir, I've got the results back from Forensics about the gun and the note." Ruby announced, "They say that there were the same set of prints on the gun and the note."  
"The prints were Tina Anderson's, weren't they?" Camille deduced.  
"How do you know that? More to the point, who are you?"  
"Ah, yes," Jack realised, "I forgot to mention: JP, Ruby, meet Camille Bordey. She's a former officer who worked on Saint Marie a while ago, and she's come back to help us out a little."  
The two officers smiled and waved at her.  
"It is pretty obvious," Madeline agreed, "if Tina Anderson had been the medic at the scene of a murder committed by Glamoritti, she must have been traumatised by what she saw. Surely she would have her revenge on the person who made her so scared?"  
Jack smiled at the pair of them.  
"Ladies, we've got ourselves two killers to interrogate."  
He then walked off towards the jeep, closely followed by Camille and DS Dumas.

Jack, Camille and Madeline had found Tina and John at Catherine Bordey's bar, by the beach. They decided to join their suspects, just as the flamboyantly dressed Catherine Bordey came over to them and noticed that her daughter had returned.  
"Maman!" Camille exclaimed in amazement and joy, hugging her mother.  
"Camille, what are you doing here?" she asked her daughter.  
"I came back from my job in France."  
Catherine smiled and hugged her daughter again.  
"So, has anything changed?"  
"I'm the mayor now, but apart from that, nothing has changed at all."

Whilst Camille and Catherine were chatting together, Jack and Madeline had also got chatting to Tina and John.  
"Why exactly are you here, Inspector?" Tina asked, harshly.  
"Me and my colleague, DS Dumas, have reason to believe that you killed Mark Glamoritti. Your fingerprints were found on the gun and a rather threatening note that was found in the victim's pocket." Jack explained.  
"And we also believe that you helped her." Madeline added, looking at John.  
"What? That's ridiculous!" John protested.  
"Is it though? Here's what I think happened: you plugged in your phone, which played a gunshot noise from the speakers on the balcony. You two then deliberately made sure that you were the first on the scene and then, in a matter of seconds, you pull out the gun with the silencer and boom!" Jack explained, miming shooting the ground with his hand, "Mark Glamoritti's dead. You can admit to it now, or make the situation a lot worse for yourselves later on."  
There was silence for a few moments, before Tina spoke.  
"Mark Glamoritti had no right to live with the things that he did. He should have died a long time ago." she stated, and Jack and Madeline shared a look of satisfaction.  
They had found their killers.

Later that day, Jack, Siobhan, Madeline, Ruby, JP, Commissioner Patterson and Camille were sat round a large table at Catherine's bar, with each of them having a colourful cocktail of some sort.  
"Detective Sergeant Bordey," the Commissioner said, "you are an extraordinary officer. You have gone beyond the call of duty for this island on numerous occasions, and you have helped the island in a great way."  
"Thank you sir."  
"And to honour this, I have brought two special guests to this party of ours."  
And at that exact moment, a black taxi pulled up, and DI Humphrey Goodman, with his wife Martha Goodman, stepped out.  
"Camille!" he shouted happily, rushing over to join her, "It's so good to see you again."  
She turned to look at the Commissioner, beaming with joy.  
"You are a wonderful man, sir. A wonderful man."

Humphrey and Jack were now stood by the main bar, watching the rest of their group.  
"Life never changes here, does it?" Jack remarked.  
"No. It really doesn't."  
"How are you, by the way?"  
"I'm fine. Still getting used to married life and policing back in England. What about you? Anything big happened here since I've been gone?"  
He laughed.  
"You've missed quite a bit. Dwayne went travelling round the world with his dad, Florence got shot-"  
"Florence got shot? Is she okay?"  
"Oh yes, she's fine. But she felt a little sad because her boyfriend, Patrice, got murdered. Now she's living with family in Martinique. My team get regular video calls from her every week, and we tell her all about a case we've solved."  
Jack sighed happily.  
"You know, life probably won't change."  
"How do you mean?"  
"There'll always be a detective and his team, here on Saint Marie, rushing about the place and locking up fellas. Whatever the circumstances, whatever happens, life goes on, and the adventures will probably never end."  
And then the party went on, long into the night.

**THE END**


	4. BONUS - New Beginnings

**New Beginnings**

Jack Thompson raced through the streets of Saint Marie, heart pumping rapidly. He was afraid, and also desperate to reach where he needed to be. Because where he needed to be was Saint Marie police station: that was certain.  
But there was somebody on his tail: a hooded figure, wielding a cricket bat. Jack was unsure as to who he was, or why he was so desperate to follow him.

Eventually, he found an alleyway where he could hide, and decided to dive into a tall bin, shutting the lid so that he couldn't be seen. His plan worked.  
A few moments passed before Jack emerged once again, quickly scrambling out of the bin and continuing to rush towards the station.

He could see the police station now: it was just a few metres ahead of him. The greenery outside it shone brightly in the sunlight, and everything was in pristine condition. A beige four by four was parked outside, next to a motorcycle and sidecart. Whoever had decided to buy that was a maniac.  
Frantically sprinting up the steps, Jack entered the station and noticed someone sitting in the far corner of the room: the stranger had short brown hair, wore a grey jacket and a red tie. His face was quite serious and professional, but his eyes showed kindness.  
"Can I help you?" the stranger asked, with a northern accent.  
"Are you the police?"  
"Yes, I am. Would you like a drink of water, seeing as you look quite exhausted?"  
"That would be quite nice, thanks."  
The detective then walked over to a sink nearby, filled a mug up with water and gave the mug to Jack.  
"So, would you mind telling me why you're in a hurry to talk to me?"  
"I've found something. It's to do with an old case."  
"I see. There's been a lot of British detectives coming over here and giving this island's police a helping hand. You have to specify which one."  
"I believe it was your predecessor, DI Jack Mooney."  
The detective smiled.  
"Tell me all about it."  
DI Neville Parker then took out a notepad and pen, and listened carefully to what Jack had to say, taking down notes every now and again.

**NEVER THE END**


End file.
